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He made it sound like they were giving away a puppy.
Mrs. Haynes watched her husband walk out of the room, then she sighed and bowed her head.
Lauren frowned. They acted like a decision had been made.
David came over to her. Shed never known his eyes could be so sad. He took her hand, squeezed it. She waited for him to say something; her need to hear I love you was near desperate. But he said nothing.
What was there to say? There was no A answer out of this situation, no road that didnt lead someone--mostly Lauren--to heartache. She wasnt ready to make this decision yet.
"Lets go, Lauren," Mrs. Haynes finally said, standing.
"I can drive her home, Mom. "
"Ill do it," Mrs. Haynes said in a voice that, even in its ragged state, brooked no disagreement.
"Then well all go," David said, taking Laurens hand.
They turned and followed Mrs. Haynes out to the garage, where the glossy black Cadillac Escalade waited.
The scene of the crime.
David opened the front passenger side door. Lauren wanted to protest at sitting up front, but she didnt want to appear rude. With a sigh, she climbed into the seat. The CD player immediately came on. The lonely, haunting strains of "Hotel California" filled the car.
David told his mother to take the highway west; other than that, they didnt speak. With every second that passed in silence, Lauren felt her stomach tightening. She had a terrifying feeling that Mrs. Haynes wanted to see Laurens mother, that it was the whole reason for this drive home.
What could Lauren say to that? It would be almost midnight by the time they reached the apartment.
"My mom is out of town on business. " Lauren said the lie in a rush, hating how it made her feel.
"I thought she was a hairdresser," his mother said.
"She is. Its a convention. One of those things where they show them all the new products. " Lauren remembered that her mothers boss had sometimes gone to conventions like that.
"I see. "
"You can let me off here," Lauren said. "Theres no point--"
"At the Safeway?" Mrs. Haynes frowned at her. "I dont think so. "
Lauren swallowed hard. She couldnt find her voice. From the backseat, David gave directions to the apartment.
They pulled up in front of the dilapidated building. In the moonlight, it looked like something out of a Roald Dahl novel, one of those a poor, pathetic child lives here kind of places.
David climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger door.
Mrs. Haynes hit the door locks, then turned, frowning.
Lauren flinched at the loud click.
"This is where you live?"
"Yes. "
Amazingly, Mrs. Hayness face seemed to soften. She sighed heavily.
David tried to open the door.
"Davids the only child I could have," Mrs. Haynes said. "He was a miracle, really. Maybe I loved him too much. Motherhood . . . changes who you are somehow. All I wanted was for him to be happy, to have all the choices I didnt have. " She looked at Lauren. "If you and David get married and keep this baby . . . " Her voice broke. "Life with a baby is hard. Without money or education, its worse than hard. I know how much you love David. I can see that. And he loves you. Enough to walk away from his future. I guess I should be proud about that. " She said this last part softly, as if she wanted to feel it but couldnt.
David pounded on the glass. "Open the door, Mom!"
Lauren understood what Mrs. Haynes wasnt saying as clearly as what she was. If you really love David, you wont make him ruin his life.
It was the same thing Lauren had thought on her own. If he loved her enough to give it all up, didnt she need to love him enough not to let him?
"If you need to talk about any of this, anytime, you come to me," Mrs. Haynes said.
It surprised Lauren, that offer. "Thank you. "
"Tell your mother Ill call her tomorrow. "
Lauren didnt even want to think about that conversation. "Okay. "
She didnt know what else to say, so she hit the door lock button and climbed out of the car.
"What the hell did she say to you?" David said, slamming the car door shut behind her.
Lauren stared at him, remembering how his mother had cried, so quietly and yet so deeply; as if her insides were breaking. "She said she loves you. "
His face crumpled at that. "What are we going to do?"
"I dont know. "
They stood there a long time, staring at each other. Then, finally, he said, "I better go. "
She nodded. When he kissed her good night, it was all she could do not to cling to him. It took pure willpower to let him walk away.
LAUREN FOUND HER MOTHER IN THE LIVING ROOM, SITTING on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. She looked jittery and nervous.
Mom put her drink on the floor. "I meant to go with you today. "
"Yeah. What happened?"
Mom reached for the drink again. There was a noticeable trembling in her hand. "I went to the mini-mart for smokes. On the way home, I ran into Neddie. The Tides was open. I thought Id have a quick drink. I needed one to . . . you know . . . but when I looked up again it was too late. " She took a drag off her cigarette, looked at Lauren through the gray haze. "You look bad. Maybe you should sit. You want an aspirin? Ill get you one. "
"Im fine. "
"Im sorry, Lauren," she said softly.
For once, Lauren heard real regret in her mothers voice. "Its okay. " She bent down and started picking up pizza boxes and empty cigarette packs from the floor. "It looks like you and Jake had quite a party last night. " When Lauren looked up, her mother was crying. It warmed her heart, that simple proof of emotion.
Lauren went to her, knelt beside the sofa. "Im okay, Mom. You dont have to cry. "
"Hes going to leave me. "
"What?"
"My whole life is nothing. And Im getting old. " Mom put out her cigarette and lit up another.
This hurt more than the slap. Even now, on this terrible day, her mothers thoughts were on herself. Lauren swallowed hard, moved away. Very slowly she went back to picking up the apartment. She had to hold back tears with every breath. "I didnt go through with it," she said quietly.
Her mother looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in blurred mascara. "What?" It took her a minute to figure out the meaning of Laurens words. "Tell me youre kidding. "
"Im not kidding. " Lauren tried to be strong, but it felt as if she were crumbling. The pain in her heart was swift and sharp. As much as she knew it was crazy-- impossible--she wanted her mother to open her arms right now, to hold her as she never had, and say, Its okay, honey. "I couldnt do it. Im the one who needs to pay for my mistake, not . . . " She looked down at her stomach.
"Baby," her mother said coldly. "You cant even say the word. "
Lauren took a step forward. She was biting her lower lip and wringing her hands. "Im scared, Mom. I thought--"
"You should be scared. Look at me. Look at this. " She stood up and made a sweeping gesture with her hands as she crossed the room. "Is this the life you want? Did you study like a fool for this? Youll lose out on college this year--you know that, right? And if you dont go now, youll never go. " She grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and shook her. "Youll be me. After all your hard work. Is that what you want? Is it?"
Lauren pulled free, stumbled back. "No," she said in a small voice.
Mom sighed heavily. "If you couldnt make it through an abortion, how in Gods name do you think you can handle adoption? Or worse yet, motherhood? Go back to the clinic tomorrow. This time Ill go with you. Give yourself a chance in life. " The anger seemed to slide out of her then. She pushed the hair from Laurens eyes, tucked a strand behind her ear. It was perhaps the gentlest her mother had ever been.
The tenderness was worse than being yelled at. "I cant. "
Mom stared at her through eyes that w
ere glazed with tears. "You break my heart. "
"Dont say that. "
"What else can I say? Youve made your decision. Fine. I tried. " She bent down and grabbed her purse. "I need a drink. "
"Dont go. Please. "
Mom headed for the door. Halfway there, she turned back around.
Lauren stood there, crying. She knew the desperate plea to stay was in her eyes.
Mom almost started to cry again. "Im sorry. " Then she left.
THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, LAUREN woke to the sound of music bleeding through the walls. It was the Bruce Springsteen CD.
She came upright slowly, rubbing her swollen, gritty eyes.
Moms party had obviously turned into an all-nighter. It wasnt surprising, she supposed. When your seventeenyear-old daughter got herself knocked up, there was nothing to do but party.
With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where she took a long, hot shower. When she was finished, she stood on the frayed scrap of a towel that served as their bathmat and studied her naked body in the mirror.
Her breasts were definitely bigger. Maybe her nipples were, too; she couldnt be sure about that, her nipples never having been high on her to-notice list.
She turned sideways.
Her stomach was as flat as ever. There was no sign there of the new life that grew within.
She wrapped a towel around her and returned to her bedroom. After making her bed, she dressed in her school uniform--red crew neck sweater, plaid skirt, white tights, and black loafers. Then she turned off her bedroom light and walked down the hallway.
In the living room she stopped. Frowned.
Something was wrong.
The ashtrays on the coffee table were empty. No half filled glasses lined the kitchen counter. The ratty old purple afghan that usually draped over the back of the sofa was gone.
Gone.
No way. Even Mom wouldnt--
She heard an engine start up outside; it was the throaty, unmistakable growl of a Harley Davidson motorcycle.
Lauren rushed to the window and whipped the flimsy curtain aside.
There, down on the street below, Mom sat behind Jake on the motorcycle. She was looking up at Lauren.
Lauren touched her fingertips to the glass. "No. "
Slowly, as if it hurt to move, her mother waved goodbye.
The motorcycle roared down the street, turned the corner, and disappeared from view.
Lauren stood there a long time, looking down at the empty street, waiting for them to come back.
When she finally turned away she saw the note on the coffee table.
That was when she knew.
She picked it up, opened it. A single word had been written in bold, blue ink.
There it was, the whole of their mother-daughter relationship reduced to a single word.
Sorry.
And the Boss sang on: Baby, we were born to run . . .
TWENTY-ONE
ANGIE DIALED LAURENS HOME NUMBER FOR THE third time.
"Still no answer?" Mama asked, coming out of the kitchen.
Angie went to the window and stared out. "No. Its not like her to miss work. Im worried. "
"Girls of that age screw up sometimes. Im sure it is nothing. "
"Maybe I should stop by her house . . . "
"A boss doesnt just show up. She missed a night of work. So what? Probably shes out drinking beers with her boyfriend. "
The Things We Do for Love Page 33
